Machinations of House Dimir
by Karesor17
Summary: Stryx is a young man, who wants to join a guild, but doesn't have an acceptable skills set or history for any... Or so he thinks. This all changes when he awakens and meets his partner in operations. He then embarks on a series of assassinations given to him under Lazav's authority.


**Yes, sorry about the new story to anyone who's bothered to read the other two, I just came up with it... Now really. Thought I'd take a crack at writing a story set on my favourite plane in Magic, Ravnica. Of course this will revolve around the activities of a completely made up Dimir agent, but still, please PM me about any errors I make in the organization and operations of the tenth guild, and any other, and review with your thoughts please. In other words, completely honest reviews, no sugar coating, know I wouldn't sugar coat any reviews for you.**

**Anyway, first chapter, planning to release this one as my schedule allows (including time for writing) and I may make Stories for other guilds if this becomes popular enough (PM suggestions for guilds, I'll work on the most popular, or if another Plane is desired I'll do that.)**

Chapter 1: The Awakening

Stryx walked into the same store he always went to, bored out of his mind, and bought the same boring fruit. It seemed to him like the entire city of Ravnica was passing him by, he wasn't even fit for any of the nine guilds. He wasn't a complete genius, so he couldn't find a place in the Izzet League or the Simic Combine, not very strong, and so unfit for the Boros Legion, not rich or pious, therefore he wasn't willing to go to the Orzhov, an active lawbreaker so the Azorius Senate would likely execute him, and he was not going anywhere near the Cult of Rakdos or the Gruul Clans.

His particular set of skills wasn't really fit for the Selesnya Conclave either, and he wasn't really able to stand the smell of the Golgari Swarm. All he really could do was avoid detection, steal, find information through a network of sources he'd developed in his youth, and if necessary, kill. His informants had told him that those were useful for an assassin for hire, but he couldn't stand that lack of coverage, he desperately wanted a gate of his own.

He continued these thoughts to himself when he ran into the sight of a patrol of lawmages. His first instinct was to run, but he knew that he'd be immediately spotted if he did, so he simply slid deeper into the crowd of beggars. It looked like the mages were saying something, and his curiosity got the best of him, so he moved to the closest edge of the crowd and listened in. "It seems they're more active than usual today. What do you make of it?" It seemed that they were talking about another guild, he almost lost interest when one of them said: "We should have shut down Duskmantle ages ago."

He immediately knew, he was a sleeper agent of the tenth guild, programmed to remember at the word Duskmantle. The sudden flood of memories was a lot to take in, but he regained his composure quickly, as he'd been prepared in training for this. How these low ranked mages knew the name of the guildhall, he had no idea, it seemed he'd have to investigate, but first he had to remember more. What was the purpose of placing him there specifically, as he knew that that had been set up, even his daily routine.

He noticed something. Out of the corner of his eye, it looked like a group of goblins were disagreeing on the price of a dagger, and it was about to get violent. Perhaps he could cause that to escalate and help his fellow agent escape the lawmages by providing a distraction. He walked over, examined the dagger, and began: "That dagger shouldn't be nearly that high in price, the blade's made of a terrible material for one, it'd bend the first time you use it, and you certainly aren't buying it for decorations, another thing, it's completely dull. I'm afraid this man is trying to rip you off good sir."

That was enough for the enraged goblin to go into a frenzy of rage. He began throwing merchandise off of the stand, and then, with a roar, leaped across, and straight into the chest of the merchant. The commotion caused the crowd to gather, allowing Stryx to vanish from the scene. The lawmages shoved through the crowd and attempted to restrain the goblin, who by that time had taken to biting the crooked nose of the merchant. Screams and growls bounced off the buildings. Stryx ignored it and went to the agent who was bound in the back of a cart, about to be taken to Prahv.

"Oi. Sleeper. You're him right? Listen, they sent me here to wake you up, knowing you'd release me and let me get you to one of the safe-houses. Now get me out of this cart before those lawmages come back."

"Not before I get answers, why am I being awakened, and why was I made to go through this routine? I was never told that."

"The routine was to make you seem like somebody who they couldn't suspect of your main specialization."

"I'm still remembering training, what was I trained for?"

"You were trained for interrogation and assassination, in other words, you get answers, and kill the squealer. I don't know anything else and I already risk losing my memories of membership."

"Fine, let's go." He cut the man free, satisfied for the moment about what he'd found out. They left quickly and quietly, desperately trying to avoid the attention of the lawmages. Along the way, they ran into a group of sinister looking thugs, who approached them cockily. They each were easily twice the size of Stryx, and even more for the other agent.

"Now then, what's we gots here? A wee boy and his… D'uh what's I say if I's wantin to makes fun of them forz bein two guys walkin together?"

Stryx couldn't handle the terrible grammar, or words… Really, everything about the man was completely repulsive. The agent noticed the look in Stryx's eye and began to back away, only saying: "I can leave this to you, besides, I'm a distraction."

The man caught the look Stryx was giving him, and let out a huge and horrible grin. His teeth were stained yellow, and had black spots where the decay was too much for any magic to hold back. His tongue had turned a sickly green from plagues he'd been carrying. By all rights, this man should have died ages ago. This just demonstrated amazing fortitude and Stryx knew exactly how to kill the man.

He approached and clapped his hand on Stryx's shoulder, and in a mocking tone, began to speak: "This boy thinks he can take me down it seems! HAH! Whats a matter boy? Don like people gettin in yur way?!" The laughter of the other two men was almost as wretched as this one's voice.

"No, I don't mind when people are in my way, it's when thugs with the brains of a fungus get in my way and mock me with the language to prove their stupidity even further that I really hate."

The smile dropped from the man's face "Yous be lookin for me to beat you then!" With that, the man threw the first strike, which Stryx ducked under, and upon doing so, moved to the other side of the man's arm, exposing his throat to the only strike he needed. His arm shot out like an arrow, hitting the man's throat with a deadly accuracy. The man stood there, stunned, and dropped to his knees when he realized the airways had been crushed. He was suffocating.

The other two, enraged by this, charged forward. Stryx was ready, as he dodged the charge of one, and, giving a swift blow to the other's abdomen, sent the second in the direction of the first. They collided and hit the ground with a sickening crunch. He approached, ready to finish them, when the other agent put his hand on Stryx's shoulder.

He snapped out of it. "Yeah, let's get going, I'm done with them anyway." Was all he said as he turned. He was amazed that he'd felt nothing, at first. He remembered that he'd done that many times in training soon after.

They ran along the cobbled streets of one of the many poor districts of the vast city, very close to the rubblebelt, and filled with beggars and thugs like the ones they'd encountered. Passing vendors and patrolling legionaires, they finally stopped in a dark alleyway, with a single trapdoor covered by some straw. "Make sure nobody sees us." The agent said to him. Stryx looked around, and remembered again, widening his senses, he could hear many conversations being held, and a single pair of footsteps accompanied by the words: "Need to get to the safehouse, quickly…" Said in a very nervous tone, it implied that there would be followers.

"Get in, now!" Stryx followed the other agent, closing the trapdoor behind him, and climbing down the ladder. When he looked around, he could see that he was in a moderately large chamber, with four doors, and a table. There were some furnishings, but they were the bare minimum, meant to encourage movement of agents on short notice. The doors lead to bunkrooms and one storeroom which contained rations.

"Now, what would your name be?" The agent asked him.

"Stryx, what's yours?"

"Jenfred, after my grandfather."

"Interesting name, I've never heard it before."

"My parents were a bizarre type."

With that they discussed their backgrounds, with very little detail, knowing that they were still spies and assassins. The man he'd heard earlier had come in during the discussion, and ran straight into a bunkroom, as though the other two weren't relevant to his chase. When they grew tired they retired to separate rooms, with Jendred giving the words "We head to a dead-drop tomorrow, your first orders, then we part after I can get you psychically linked to the network."

"Right, my training on that is outdated I presume."

"Very, we seem to be under new leadership. Lazav is his name, but nobody meets him, they say he has thousands of faces."

"Interesting, maybe we have met him and we don't realize it then?"

Jendred gave a short laugh and retired. Stryx was left to his thoughts, in one day, he'd regained his memories of being an assassin, his training had returned to him, partially at least, and he was done with his routine. He gave in to the encroaching darkness and fell asleep.

**There we go, the end of the first chapter, hope you enjoyed and I'll release another... probably during the weekend, assuming I'm not buried in my chemistry textbook.**


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